So last week I had a birthday three decades in the making. After seeing so many of my friends duped into surprise parties I decided to circumvent the situation by planning my own party.
I didn’t want to just have a regular party – I wanted to celebrate the the kid inside myself that I am determined to foster. So I decided to throw a roller-skating party, but not just any roller- skating party, an 80’s roller- skating party.
Husband and I planned to rent out the entire rink so childlike family and friends could enjoy themselves uninhibited. I knew that some people would need some encouragement, which was provided by Biscuit in the form of a Keg. Turns out everyone was as eager as myself to reclaim the days of pre-adolescent fun.
It was an awesome day. I started by going to get my hair cut. Since I was there, why not get my couife professionally styled for the evenings’ theme. So the fun began. Our laughter grew exponentially by the rate of hairspray being used. By the time I left, my hair was a height only respectable in the 80’s. It swept the roof of the car on the drive home.
I was only home an hour or so before my college roommates showed up, hands full of beer, sparkling wine and general randomness. I was so happy to have them there early so we could catch up and get ready together. By the time Padre and Momma T got there, we were in full 80’s regalia. It only took a whisper to get Momma T in on the 80’s dress. We scrounged up some clothes, caked on the makeup and through a fog of hairspray she emerged. Half of the fun is in the prep!
Once at the rink, we strapped on some skates, pulled up our leg warmers and got started. It was a great time. Padre had me a little worried at first but by the second time around the rink, he was a pro.
There were a handful of people that no matter how much they tried, spent more time on the ground than on skates, Jenna being one of them. I think they had fun trying though. (Side note: I found out this week that my new BOSS broke her arm at the party. Pain was not the impression I was hoping to make.)
Somewhere in the haze of laughter, neon colors and friends, there was a slideshow of pictures of me. It was the first time I realized my age all night. It was scene after scene of awful hairstyles and bad clothing, but I was always smiling. What a charmed life I’ve been lucky to have.
Oh and if having a 20 min slide show of pictures of ME, at a party thrown by me for MY birthday wasn’t vain enough, my favorite part of the night was when everyone gathered around to sing happy birthday. Monkers brought a beautiful, diet demolishing cake, topped it with sparklers and presented it to me. Oh how I love attention!
Before I knew it, the night was over. We trucked back to our house for afterhours, remaining keg in tow. I wasn’t ready to let the night end, neither was my hair.
Eventually I collapsed into bed. The next morning, the hangover was eased by full house of friends and family, eager to relive the details of the night before over an omelet.
A picture of "the hair" per request from The Good Cook. It had started to fall slightly if that gives you any indication to the original height: